


Poison

by AutisticWriter



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Canon Gay Character, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Multi, One Shot, Poisoning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-22 23:32:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7457965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AutisticWriter/pseuds/AutisticWriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if it was not Ron who got poisoned, but Horace?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Poison

Ron raised the glass of mead to his lips, hoping this might make him feel a bit better, and was about to take a sip when he stopped. Over the top of his glass, he could see that something was wrong with Professor Slughorn.

“Professor?” Ron said.

He had gone very pale, and he looked as though he was frozen to the spot. His grip on his glass relaxed, and then he dropped it, and it fell to the floor. A few seconds later, Slughorn followed his glass as his legs buckled, and hit the floor with a thud.

“Harry, what’s wrong with him?” He cried as Slughorn’s limbs started to jerk uncontrollably, making him look like he was having a fit.

“I don’t know!” Harry said, dropping his own glass and running across the room towards Slughorn. “Professor, what’s wrong? Professor!”

Slughorn seemed to be obvious to his presence. His eyes were bulging and staring, unfocused, at the ceiling, whilst his lips turned a horrible shade of blue as he gasped for breath, writhing on the floor like someone under the Cruitatus curse.

“Professor!” Harry shook Slughorn’s shoulders, and almost got punched in the face by a flailing hand.

“Harry, do something!” He yelled, his heart pounding.

“Like what?” Harry yelled back.

“Something, anything!” He cried. “He’s dying, Harry!”

“I know!” Harry bellowed, stumbling to his feet.

Ron watched his friend hurtle across the room, opening draws as he tried to locate something that he obviously hoped might help, whilst trying to avoid looking at Professor Slughorn.

“Hurry!”

“I am!” Harry shouted, his voice cracking.

Harry must have found something, because his face lit up. Hurtling back over to him and Slughorn, who had now gone totally blue in the face, Harry dropped to his knees and forced a strange, kidney-shaped stone into Slughorn’s open mouth.

Almost instantly, Professor Slughorn let out a gasp, and stopped shaking and lay very still.

Ron and Harry kneeled in silence; all Ron could hear was their gasping breaths.

“That was bloody quick thinking, mate,” Ron said, sighing shakily. He felt quite sick.

“Get Madame Pomfrey,” Harry said, wiping his sweaty forehead. When Ron, still a bit dazed, didn’t react immediately, he added, “Please, Ron, do it quickly!”

Still shaking with adrenaline, Ron nodded obediently and rushed over to the fireplace, all of his wooziness from the love potion gone. He grabbed a handful of Floo Powder and, after throwing the powder into the fire, kneeled down in front of the now bright green flames.

“Hospital wing!” He said, trying to speak clearly despite his shaking voice.

He felt the peculiar sensation of his head spinning whilst his knees stayed against the freezing cold stone floor, and then he was looking out of the fireplace in the hospital wing. From here, he could see all the way down the wing to the large oak doors, as well as Madame Pomfrey bustling between beds. From behind him, Ron could hear Harry trying to rouse Professor Slughorn, with limited success.

“Madame Pomfrey!” He called, and she jumped.

“Weasley!” She said, coming over as several students leaned up from their pillows to look at him. “What on Earth are you doing?”

“Professor Slughorn’s ill,” he said. “I think he’s been poisoned.”

“I’ll be right there.”

Smiling weakly, and grateful that Madame Pomfrey was one of those people who didn’t ask too many questions, Ron pulled his head back from the fire. He stumbled, dizzily, for a few seconds after getting to his feet. He turned around, and saw Harry was still kneeled down beside Slughorn, his fingers pressed against the side of his neck.

“He’s got a pulse,” Harry said. “But he won’t wake up.”

“What d’you think happened to him?” He asked, sitting down on the floor beside Harry. He still didn’t feel right, and using the Floo Powder hadn’t helped him feel better.

“Someone must have done something to the mead, or the bottle,” Harry said, still slightly out of breath.

“But who would want to—”

“That doesn’t matter right now, Ron,” Harry said.

A few seconds later, the fire turned green again and Madame Pomfrey stepped out of the fireplace. Brushing ash from her robes, she hurried over and dropped to her knees beside them. Her hand immediately went to his neck, and she seemed just as relieved as Harry had to find he had a pulse.

“What’s that in his mouth?” She said.

“A bezoar,” Harry said, and to Ron he might as well have been speaking in Parseltongue.

“Good thinking, Potter,” she said. “You may have saved his life.”

Harry smiled weakly.

“Now, I need you to tell me exactly what happened,” she said, in an ominous voice.

Harry and Ron recounted the entire thing, Ron feeling horribly shaky like he was coming down with something. Harry didn’t look much better. Once they were finished, Madame Pomfrey glanced around the room.

“Where’s the bottle?”

Harry went to pick it up, but she grabbed his arm. “Don’t touch it, Potter. It might be dangerous.”

Ron held his breath as she picked it up herself, and, luckily, nothing happened. It must have been the mead itself that was poisoned. Madame Pomfrey seemed to agree, because she put the cork back inside the bottle and tucked it into the pocket of her robes.

Madame Pomfrey made a stretcher appear out of nowhere and levitated Slughorn’s unconscious body onto it. Smiling weakly at him and Harry, she hovered the stretcher in midair and moved towards the fire. And then she disappeared, leaving Ron and Harry alone, wondering what was going to happen to Professor Slughorn.

\---

Albus was just starting to fall asleep when a knock on his office door woke him up. Several of the portraits on his wall also started, and grumbled as Albus yawned and sat up straight.

“Come in!” He called, pushing his glasses up onto his forehead to rub his eyes.

The door opened, and Minerva came in. The look on her face told him something was horribly wrong.

“What is it, Minerva?”

Sighing, Minerva adjusted her robes and made an ordeal of not looking him in the eye. “It’s Horace.”

Albus felt his chest tighten. “What’s happened?”

“We’re not sure, but Potter and Weasley were there and they think he’s been poisoned. He’s in the medical wing.”

“Poisoned?” He gasped.

Minerva nodded. Her eyes were overly bright. “He’s stable, but unconscious.”

Minerva gave him a hug, something she hadn’t done in years. Albus felt his eyes sting, and, when she pulled away, he saw that her eyes were very watery.

“I’m sure he’ll pull through, Albus,” she said.

“I know,” Albus said. “I just can’t help worrying.”

Sighing, they set off for the medical wing. When he and Minerva arrived, Albus found Severus, Harry, Ron and Poppy all standing around a bed, the bed Horace was lying in. Albus looked past them all and had a quick glimpse at Horace. He was unconscious, flat on his back, looking horribly pale and clammy, his lips still slightly blue-tinged. Grimacing slightly, he turned towards Harry and tried his best to smile.

“Thank you, Harry,” Albus said, reaching out and patting Harry’s shoulder. “You saved his life. And you, Ron.” He added, looking at Ron, who smiled bashfully.

“That was some brilliant quick thinking, Potter,” Minerva said, smiling.

“I have to admit that using a bezoar was a very good idea, Potter,” Severus said, giving Harry what was clearly as close to a smile as he could manage. Harry smiled back, just as awkward.

“Thank you, Professor,” Harry mumbled.

For the first time, Albus saw that Severus was holding a bottle. When he saw Albus looking at it, he said, “This is the bottle Potter and Weasley gave me. It was what Horace was drinking when . . . that happened to him, and I need to run some tests on both the mead and the bottle to identify the poisons used.”

Albus swallowed hard. The thought of his partner ingesting a poison made him want to cry.

“Does anyone know how he got hold of a bottle of poisoned mead?” Minerva asked.

Not listening to her, Albus took another look at the bottle in Severus’s hands, and suddenly felt his stomach clench. He had seen the bottle Severus was holding before. He recognised it clearly; it was the bottle of alcohol Horace had been saving for their anniversary.

“Can I have a look, Severus?” He asked.

Severus passed him the bottle. Carefully, Albus took it and turned it over in his hands. His eyes stung, and he handed it back to Severus and turned around so no one could see how rapidly he was blinking. Once he had control back, walked over to the bed, trying to smile.

Wearily, he sat down beside the bed, willing himself not to break down. He couldn’t, not in front of all of these people. Poppy seemed to read his mind, because she suddenly spoke up for the first time.

“All right, all of you, I want you to leave,” Poppy said, practically shoving Harry, Ron, Minerva and Severus away from the bed and towards the doors. None of them argued. Once they were gone, Poppy came back over, and smiled.

“Thank you, Poppy,” Albus said.

“It’s nothing,” she said. “I’ll leave you two alone now, if you want.”

Albus smiled, genuinely this time. “Please.”

Poppy moved away from Horace’s bed, and walked down the ward and went into her small office. After glancing quickly at the boy Albus recognised as a fifth year Ravenclaw and finding him asleep, Albus leaned closer to his partner, and sighed. He looked dreadful.

“My darling Horace,” he said softly, wanting Horace to wake up and smile at him, but he didn’t. Albus sighed again.

Carefully, as though worried he might break Horace if he touched him, Albus took Horace’s hand in his own and squeezed it tightly. His fingers were limp, but Albus interlocked their fingers nevertheless. It was oddly comforting.

Albus tried to not think about what he knew had happened. The thought that the bottle could have poisoned them both made him feel rather sick.

“I’m so sorry this has happened to you,” he whispered.

He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Horace’s clammy forehead. When he sat back in his seat and raised his head, he saw Poppy was looking at him.

“I thought you said you were leaving us alone?” he said, smiling even though he felt horribly embarrassed.

“I need to take his temperature,” Poppy said, her eyebrows raised. “Besides, this is nothing I haven’t seen before.”

Albus found his ears going red as he remembered the time Poppy walked in on them kissing in his Transfiguration classroom when he used to teach that subject. Poppy smiled as she put the thermometer into Horace’s mouth.

“He’ll be fine, Albus,” she said, suddenly serious. “I reckon he will wake up in the next few hours.”

“Thank you, Poppy,” Albus said, giving Horace’s hand a squeeze. Poppy smiled again, and Albus once again felt on the brink of tears, yet also strangely comforted.

This was why Albus loved his Hogwarts staff, because they cared so much about each other that they were practically family. And, considering that Horace didn’t have any family since he came out all those years ago, he needed all the support he could get. Albus sighed again, and just hoped that Poppy was right, and that his partner would wake up.


End file.
